Disease
by Dark Mew Angel
Summary: In the bed there is a man. He is pale, so pale that he nearly blends in with the pale white sheets that cover him. Though there is a smile on his face, his eyes are sad, so very sad...


Disclaimers: I do not own Tokyo Mew Mew. I just like angstfiying its characters.

Author's Notes: This _might _be shonen-ai, but it dependes on how you look at things.It also _might _be a deathfic, but once again, it dependes on how you look at things. The"she" in this story is one of the Mew Mews. Decide for yourself which one.

_Disease_

She dashes down the street, her feet echoing against the gray pavement. Someone she know well has been admitted to the hospital again, that place that is only for the sick and the dieing. She comes to the hospital, and her heart grows heavy. She knows where the person will be. He will be in the room, the room with the window. He has been there before…

She walks around the building, and comes to the room, the room with the one window. She peers into the window. The room is dim, not dark but dim enough to be almost depressing and yet still allow eerie shadows to be cast. In the room there is nothing but a bed with a chair beside it, and a chest of drawers. It is a little too clean, and much too bare.

In the bed there is a man. He is pale, so very pale he nearly blends in with the pale white bedspread that surrounds him, and the pale white sheets that cover him. His long chestnut colored hair is spread around his pillow, forming a dark halo around his pale face. Though there is a smile on his face, his eyes are sad, so very sad.

Beside the bed there is a boy. That is not the proper term for him, he is not a boy any longer, but he is still too young to be called a man, so for convenience she will refer to him as "boy". The boy sits beside the bed, clutching the man's pale hand in both of his own. His hands are a healthy bronze, a strange contrast to the pale, ailing hand they grasp. The boy's liquid blue eyes are filled with tears as he gazes at the man. He can't be a day older than sixteen, this boy with youthful features and unruly locks of golden hair, but watching him she somehow knows of his pain, his terrible pain, his pain far beyond his years.

After what seems an eternity of silence, the boy opens his mouth to speak. "Keiichiro… you-you… can't… _die_…" This last word is spoken with such raw anguish, with such dread, that she know the boy has somehow convinced himself that what he says is true. "But Ryou… you know I can…" The man replies, his voice heavy with an emotion she cannot quite give a name to. Perhaps it is a frank version of sorrow, or simply the verbal manifestation of the man's pain.

"I won't let you!" the boy cries, and the tears that he has been holding back break free and tumble down his face, falling onto the bed sheets and staining them, turning them from white to grey. "Don't be foolish… We both know I'm not going to get better…" The man states. This shocks the boy out of his tears, and he simply stares at the man, his eyes full of astonishment. The man winces as he pulls himself into a sitting position. "I'm sorry… But you need to stop denying the inevitable. I'm not going to recover this time… I don't want to wake up to this pain anymore…"

"So you're giving up?" The boy asks, his tone flat, his expression dark. "You know that you're all I have left in this world. I'll find a cure to your illness myself if I have to. **I will not let you die**." "Ryou …" The man states softly, his expression a mix of pity and heartache.

It would be nice to watch this couple longer, this desperate boy and mysterious man, but her time is short, and she has many things we need to do. Besides, she dosen't like this place, with this dim room and its darkened window. She turns away from the window and begin to walk away, not bothering to look back. She can always come again tomorrow…

* * *

Three months have passed as quickly as a dream. Somehow she hasn't found time to go back to that window. But she isgoing today, going to visit the man and the boy. The boy has surely found a cure for the man's illness by now, and the man will be healthy, ready to leave that barren room with the window. She comes to the window again, and she peers inside. The room is empty, barren and lonely. There is no sign of the man, no trace of the boy.She crouches by the window, wondering if perhaps she should have come earlier. "But it's fine!" she declares, with a smile on her face. "The man has obviously already left this room, together with the boy. Everything is surely okay."

While sheis saying this a figure sweeps past her. She notices that it's the boy she's been discussing, and she hurrys to get up and follow him. He doesn't notice her; he looks as though he has been broken, and no longer cares what happens around him.She wonders what has happened as she pursues him.

At last the boy stops, and she realizes that she isstanding at the entrance to a cemetery. This cemetery is unnaturally quiet, there is no sound, no life. The boy enters the graveyard without any hesitation, he seems to know exactly where he is going. She follows, worried and silent. At last the boy stops, in front of a grave. It is a modest grave, with a small grey hunk of rock for a tombstone, nothing fancy, nothing elegant.

The boy kneels in front of the grave, his face contorted with immeasurable heartache. He bows his head slowly, and whispers something we can't quite hear. He stands up, and leaves without another word, his head down, his shoulders hunched.She stares at the tombstone. At this distance, it is impossible to read the inscription on it. Will she go closer, and dare to find out who it is that is buried in the grave? Is it the man? Is that why the room with the window is empty? As she asks herself these questions,she take a few hesitant steps towards the grave. At the very last moment she suddenly turns around and begin to walk quickly away, away from the tombstone and out of the cemetery.

When she is at last out of the cemetery, she covers her with her hands. There are strange feelings in her heart, potent mixtures of denial and regret. She lets her hands fall away from her face, and she gazes up at the darkening sky. "The person in the grave is most surely not Keiichiro!" She tells herself firmly. After this declaration, she slowly begins to walk home. For some reason, she almost feel like crying. She wonders why, since the man and boy are surely fine, and everything is surely okay… _Isn't it_?

_The End_

Author's Other Notes: You can judge for yourself what this fanfic means. It's intended to be slightly confusing, and not explain everything that happens. This writing style is new for me, and I'm rather pleased with how it all turned out. Please send me a review; I really, really,_really _want to know what everyone thinks of this. Feel free to ask questions, I reply to every review I get. Praise, criticism, comments, questions,flames, WTFs, they're all welcome… ;)


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